Feints
by Nimbus 1944
Summary: Taunts, challenges, tricks -- everything short of a fist fight. Good thing Ron and Harry are friends...
1. Default Chapter

Original story material is the property of the fanfic author; other material of Rowling et al. falls under the usual disclaimer.

****

1. Players.

Hogwarts - Monday, September 16, Second Year.

**"G**ET UP! GET UP!"

For a moment, it sounded like Aunt Petunia, and Harry thought he was back home. But why did her feet sound like a clopping horse?

"ROUSE YOUR MEN! THEY'RE BURNING DANBURY!"

__

What? 

__

Oh. Then he remembered. It was just that stupid alarm clock. 

"Okay, okay. We're up," Harry mumbled to the enchanted picture on the window sill. 

But the girl on horseback was not to be deterred. "THE BRITISH ARE LOOTING AND PILLAGING!"

"And SLEEPING!" groaned Dean.

"Or were," added Neville, stretching.

"MUSTER THE TROOPS AT LUDINGTON'S MILL!"

Seamus, without hardly moving an eyelid, said, "Oh, take a flying leap!"

"And the horse you rode in on," came a muffled voice from under Ron's blanket.

She started to shout at them again -- but, a chorus of "SHUDDUP!" finally convinced her that she had ridden into enemy territory. "Humph!" she concluded. "I'm only doing my duty."

Harry smirked. "Thanks, but I reckon I'll return you to Hermione and try a different one. One that doesn't shout." 

"Oh, there's a good idea," said Ron, finally emerging. "Yesterday it was a hen going on her name was Ginger. Gives us ginger types a bad name. Today it's some Yank galloping through the dorm. Oh, let's ask for an opera singer next, Harry, why not? The screechier the better. Or maybe a lady munitions expert, giving demonstrations."

"Sorry," said Harry. "I didn't know this one would wake the whole dorm." 

Hermione's mum had sent her an imported set of small charmed pictures _("Leading Ladies: 15 Tick & Tickle Picture Alarms for Sleepy Young Witches, made in USA by Brewster North & Co., vendors to the magical world")_. Hermione thought using one might help Ron and Harry get up on time, before McGonagall had to lecture them again. So far, this was the second failure in that social experiment. 

"Maybe she has a nice quiet one for you, Harry," said Ron. 

"A quiet alarm??"

"So it won't wake the whole dorm. We'll put it on your bedside table."

"And what would this quiet alarm sound like?" asked Harry.

"Every morning, a picture of Hermione Granger will whisper to you, _'Harry, sweetie, wake up, honey dearest!' "_

That started a brief pillow fight. Well, at least they were up. 

* * *

Hermione was surprised to see all five boys arrive with the other Second Years at breakfast. "Well, I see Sybil Ludington roused the troops!"

"No wonder they lost the war," joked Ron.

He sat and started eating immediately. It was amazing to watch his ability to sit down and load his plate in one swooping motion. "So, Hermione, who's our muggular banshee tomorrow morning? A hog caller? Yodeler? A Polish accordian player, maybe?" 

"Oh, did poor Ronnie have a rough time with my alarm today?" asked Hermione.

"Just be glad I don't hit girls." 

"And what does being a girl have to do with anything?"

"I'm nifb n' lov'bub..." -- the flow of world history paused while Ron swallowed his mouthful of egg -- "..nice and loveable to girls. I'll just slap Harry instead, if you dare give him one of those alarms again."

"You'd slap your best friend, would you?"

"Sure! Someone has to. Keeps the famous Baby Wizard humble. I'm so lucky to have been assigned this job! By the way, Hermione, I was telling Harry my idea for this quieter alarm, a picture of.... _ow _!" Ron looked over at a grinning Harry, who had just kicked him, and quickly changed his line. "Never mind. Who'd want a quiet alarm, anyway?"

Hermione caught the interaction, and turned. "A picture of who, Harry?"

Harry mentally stumbled, then recovered. "Whoo, exactly. A picture of an owl, hooting us awake. But owl calls make me drowsy."

"What you need," said Hermione. "is a picture of McGonagall howling at you two for being late again."

"That would do it. As it is, Dean doesn't favour breakfast much, but he has a windup clock, and he's always up in time for class. We'll just have to wake each other until we get back on schedule."

"It's your own fault, you know, staying up late with wizard chess. How did this tournament get started, anyway?"

"Simple," answered Ron. "Harry would like to actually win a game. So we might play until he wins one, which could take forever, or until I feel sorry for him and let him win."

Harry smiled, said "You wish!" and kept eating.

Ron reached for seconds. "I'm just telling the ugly truth, Harry."

Harry's fork made a quick jab at Ron's plate, and came back with a slice of fruit. "Check!"

Ron grabbed a fork for the challenge, bided his time, then made a carefully-timed poke at Harry's plate, scoring some sausage without getting stabbed. "Mate!"

"Ba-bum!" drummed Harry.

"Thank you!" said Ron, concluding one of their well-practised gag routines.

Hermione laughed with them. "You two get along like brothers."

Ron grimaced. "What a horrible thought." 

* * *

The badgering continued as they walked off into the distance, toward Transfig class.

"You're 'nice and loveable to girls', did you say?" asked Harry. 

"Of course!" said Ron, matter-of-factly. "They all adore me for my great good looks. On the other hand, with this Quidditch thing, you have a jock image."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"Naw. When they think of you, Harry, they think of sweaty socks."

"Go on. When they think of me, they think of Luke Skywalker."

A pause. "Who?"

"Never mind. It's... a muggle thing."

"Oh."


	2. Gambit

****

2. Gambit.

"Mr. Weasley!"

__

Oh, no, thought Ron, his dream interrupted. 

__

Not that stupid alarm again! 

__

Oh, great idea, that. "We'll get you a picture of McGonagall," she says. "Howling at you two for being late," she says. Right. 

"MR. WEASLEY!"

"Put a lid on it!" he muttered. "Good Lord. I'm up."

At that point, Ron got it from both sides... a nudge from Harry, and a very loud voice.

"M I S T E R W E A S L E Y !!"

That opened his eyes and brought him back to reality. Professor McGonagall was looking at him -- not thin-lipped, anyway; that was always a bad sign. She actually looked half-amused. _Oh, yeah. I did get up already, didn't I. _

It was just the three of them. He had slept through the end of Transfig.

"Yes, Professor."

"Mr. Weasley, it's obvious you need to get more sleep, but Transfiguration class is not the time for it. Why, you missed the last few minutes -- and it was a spectacular finish to my lecture, if I must say." 

"Sorry, Professor."

She was almost conversational now. "You know my rule on napping students. If it moves, educate it; if it doesn't move, transform it! What would you like to become the next time you nod off?

"Um.. awake and listening?" 

"I would hope so. Are you gentlemen wandering the corridors at night again, or what's the reason for the droopy eyelids?"

Harry answered for them. "We started playing long chess sessions in the common room at night, Professor. Wizard chess. I'm the slow one, and we've been running rather late."

"Chess is dear to my heart, too, but I'd suggest setting a cutoff time. Can't you leave the board where it is until the next evening?"

"Well.....we tried that once, but it's a problem with a wizard chess board. The pieces started complaining loudly about being ignored. 'Move, already', 'Get on with it', and all that. They were bothering a few older students who were still up.....er, studying by the fireplace."

"Studying? So late?" 

Ron mumbled something and smirked.

"Excuse me, Mr. Weasley?" she said.

"Uh....snogging," he repeated, looking down. "They were up.. snogging by the fireplace. Sorry."

McGonagall, an ex-Gryffindor herself, chuckled as she imagined that familiar setting. _Nothing much has changed in that room, has it._

"Be that as it may," she said, "let's try to fix your little problem. All right then, boys?"

"Yes, Professor," they both answered.

* * *

At the banquet, Ron was on again about the alarms.

"Hermione, which howler is getting _you_ up in the morning these days?"

"The pictures? I haven't needed them much. The girl's dorm faces Hagrid's chicken yard. It's a long way off, but I hear the rooster every morning, unless it's stormy."

"And when it was stormy, you used a picture? And what happened?"

"The first one was Sybil, and she went off pretty early...and loudly. Ever had four girls ready to kill you?"

"Sure, all the time! So, let's see... the first one almost got you killed, so naturally, you gave that one to poor Harry to set off in_ our_ dorm. Follows, doesn't it?"

"You're harder to get up, aren't you? You need a woman shouting at you over there."

" I'll give you that, but what happened the next time you used one?"

"No problem. Your father helped my parents make a special one for me... one that wouldn't wake the whole dorm."

"A picture of Errol running into a wind chime?" suggested Harry.

"Actually," she replied, "it's a picture of my mother quietly saying, _"Hermione, wake up dear, it's time to get up, honey."_

Ron had to cover his mouth, to keep from spurting a mouthful of dinner. Harry was laughing uncontrollably.

"What's so funny?" asked Hermione. 

* * *

His Queen's Pawn finally got pummelled, and Harry lifted the shattered remains off the board. Mercifully, the game was almost over. 

"You're very good at this, Ron!" said Padma Patil. Or was it Parvati? The identical twins were usually identifiable by the house crest on their robes, but dressed alike, it was nearly impossible. 

Ron, of course, was grinning from ear to ear. To add embarrassment to Harry's impending defeat, the Patil twins were looking on. They had come by, as requested, to remind them of the late hour. 

"Of course I'm good," he said, yawning. "I was saying that to Harry just yesterday."

Though it was his move, Harry initiated a diversion. "Actually, one thing Ron said yesterday was that he was 'loveable to girls'. What do you think?"

The twins looked at each other and smiled. "Well, I know one of us might think something like that," said Parvati...or was it Padma? Ron looked a bit uncomfortable.

Harry persisted, hoping for a contrary opinion. "And what does the other one think?"

Again the twins exchanged glances, and whatever silent signals twins exchange. "The other one thinks Ron has cute friends," said the other twin.

It was Harry's turn to redden. _ Now look what I started._ And it was Ron's turn to incite. "I didn't know I had any cute friends. Who would that be?"

"Well, Harry, of course! But only one of us thinks that he's cuter," said one of them -- does it matter which?

Ron fell into it. "And how are we s'posed to know which is which?"

The twin telegraph flickered again. "Well, if you wanted to find out, that would take a Snog Test," said Padma...or Parvati.

Mr. Loveable felt more and more uneasy. "Harry, are you going to move sometime tonight?"

"I'm thinking," answered Mr. Skywalker. "Uh.. what's a snog test?"

"That's how you can really tell twins apart," said Miss Patil. 'Haven't either of you played Spin the Bottle?" asked the other.

"Sorry, no," answered Harry. "Sheltered muggle life." 

"Spin the...what?" asked Ron.

"A snog test's simple," said P. Patil. "Y'see, there's no reason why twins should kiss alike. If they _both_ kissed you, you should be able to tell which one is more serious about it."

Uncomfortable silence followed.

"Harry, would you PLEASE move?"

"I'm thinking."

"Why don't we give you a demonstration," she said. "Who'd like to be first?"

"Harry would!"

"I'm thinking. Let Ron go first. Says he's loveable, y'know."

More telegraphy. "Okay, Ron, brace yourself." The twins proceeded to plant simultaneous smooches, slowly, gently but generously, on opposite cheeks. Statistically, at least one of the twins thoroughly enjoyed it. "Well?"

Ron, with all of his grand-total life experience as an 12-year-old, summed up the results: "Uh....I couldn't tell any difference, really."

"Perhaps Harry will have better luck." Whereupon, Harry got double-teamed in similar fashion. Again, at least one Patil twin was rumoured to be thrilled, and the recipient actually blushed and smiled. We'll never know if Harry could tell the difference either.... or cared. He gladly accepted kisses wherever and whenever! 

There was also a gasp.

A gasp?

Oh, that was from the newly-arrived audience member. Hermione had returned from a late library session with a copy of _Poltergeists on Parade_ under her arm, just in time for this stage show. Though startled, she recovered and smiled.

"Learning new moves, Harry?" she asked. 

"All in fun," explained Ron. "The girls volunteered to be our cutoff. They went to nick a snack in the kitchen, and said if we were still playing when they came back, they would annoy us until we quit. They're very good at it. Harry's completely befuddled, and he's going to concede any second now."

"No," said Harry, "I was still thinking about my move. Wasn't annoyed at all. Enjoying it, actually! But Ron's totally stunned."

"Yeah, right."

"Well then, Ron, I'll keep thinking, and meanwhile the girls can give you a few more chances at 'Guess the Twin'. Unless you'd rather resign the game ....?"

"RESIGN??!! I'm going to win this game, oh great wizard, as soon as you finish dawdling."

One of the twins jumped in. "So then, are you ready for your second try, Ron?"

Ron's eyes narrowed. He began to see what was going on here. "Wait a minute.....this is a setup, isn't it?"

Harry smiled. "Setup is such a dirty word. Think of it as... wizard chess."

"You've sic'ed them on me! You got these two to 'volunteer', didn't you! They're going to kiss me into quitting, are they? " Ron folded his arms and closed his eyes. "Well, bring it on, kiss away!" 

The Patil twins leaned back, laughing; Hermione, too, was enjoying the whole thing. 

"All right, then," said Harry, "be that way. Let's keep playing. And tomorrow morning, I'll nudge you when McGonagall sees you sleeping again. Well.... _maybe_ I'll nudge you."

Ron surrendered to sleepiness. "Okay...let's end this mess for tonight. I'm outnumbered.... I'm tired.... my best friend's just had me double-snogged by these two hired assassins. I hope you realize this means war, Harry!"


	3. Feints

****

3. Feints.

Ron arose first, and the war was afoot. 

Harry found out as soon as he woke up and reached for his glasses. His hint? The fact that his glasses weren't on his bedside table. 

In fact, they were on the window sill. 

In the tall glass pitcher. 

The tall glass pitcher that was almost filled with ice water.

"Ron, you prat!" said Harry. Ron and their three dorm mates roared with laughter.

"Think of it as wizard chess, Harry."

Those were the last words the best of friends would exchange all day.

* * *

Harry was late arriving at breakfast, but just in time to see a school owl deliver a package to Ron.

Ron didn't have to fully unwrap it. The delivery wriggled out of its own package, and ran. 

It took Ron a few minutes of embarrassing scramble, up and down the Gryffindor table, to catch Scabbers. A smiling Harry avoided eye contact. Now Ron knew why Harry had been late to breakfast. 

* * *

But revenge is sweet. Or so they say.

Ron was late arriving at the midday meal, but just in time to see Hedwig deliver an envelope to Harry. 

Not just any envelope, though. It was a Howler. It loudly purported to be from a house-elf named Fifi, who said she was brokenhearted that Harry had left her for a troll, after all they meant to each other! To the other Weasleys, the voice sounded remarkably like ickle Ronnie, talking in a high-pitched voice with a very bad imitation of an elfin accent. 

Harry turned red as a beet, while a smiling Ron avoided eye contact. Now Harry knew why Ron had been late to lunch. 

* * *

In study hall, Ron went to talk to Angelina Johnson about something. He made the mistake of leaving his books unguarded on the table. 

When he came back, he couldn't find his Potions homework. He did a frantic search before stopping to consider the ongoing chain of events, and turned to where Harry had been studying. 

Harry had left the room, but there on the table was Ron's homework parchment. On top of it, hanging off the edge of the table, was a wooden bookend, the flat backside up. On top of that was the glass of ice water that Harry had been sipping....except the half-full glass was now upside down on the bookend. Only the vacuum that nature abhors was holding the water in. 

Ron thought about a _wingardium leviosa_, but if the glass levitated without the bookend, he was doomed. He was very, very gentle and very, very slow at sliding his precious homework out from underneath the stack.

* * *

Later that afternoon, the Gryffindor Quidditch team was delayed a few minutes in starting practice. 

It seems their Seeker, one Mr. Potter, opened his wardrobe in the team room to find his uniform and broom had been replaced with a pink dress and a mop. 

The rest of the team savoured the moment, especially the Weasley twins.

"Go on, Harry, you're a great wizard!"

"....We're sure you can make a mop fly..." 

"....even if you have to ride it side-saddle..."

"....but how are you going to catch the Snitch, with one hand on the mop..."

"....and the other hand modestly holding your skirt down in the breeze?"

Harry found his proper gear in the nearby mop room. He reckoned Fred and George had helped Ron sneak in. For once, he was wrong to suspect the twins of perpetrating a joke. 

Angelina volunteered to hold the dress until Ron's anonymous conspirator claimed it. After practice, she brought it to the girls' dorm, and snickering, put it back among her weekend things, where it belonged.

* * *

The banquet went quietly that night. Very quietly. Both sides figured they had used up their luck in perpetrating disruptive jokes in the venue of the Great Hall. But you could tell the war was hardly over.

Hermione couldn't take it any longer. "Are you two going to say anything to each other, or is this developing into a fist fight?"

"No problem," said Ron, "as soon as Harry admits he lost last night's game."

"Or," said Harry, "as soon as Ron agrees he resigned it."

Fred and George loved every minute of it.

"You're right, Hermione....."

"....Definite fist fight developing here."

"Kid Weasley, representing the Burrow gym..."

".... versus the Whinger from Little Whinging..."

"....for the peewee championship of the UK."

"The winner gets a week in the Infirmary...."

"....and the loser gets two weeks."

"I want the butterbeer concession...."

Without a word, Hermione got up and stamped out of the hall. The twins took the cue and shut up. Ron and Harry glanced at each other, then looked down, and said nothing. 

Now several people who had a lot they should be saying to each other weren't talking at all.

There was no wizard chess game that night.


	4. End Game

****

4. End Game.

The next morning, they almost walked next to each other at the stairwell landing. Heaven forbid that should happen!

Harry avoided Ron, picked up speed and headed down along the outer railing. 

But this was not Ron's morning. Ron, on the wall side of the stairs, encountered a double-dose of the usual hazards. The stairs started changing, distracting him just as he came to the vanishing step.

One leg went through. Ron's back swung against the railing, then he lost his grip and fell face-first, his books scattering madly downward. He almost got banged up. 

Almost. 

Half the avalanche of books belonged to Harry, who though teetering himself, had dropped his books to catch Ron before his face would have hit the stairs, almost going down the staircase backwards himself. Once everything slid to a halt, they both looked up. 

"All right there?" asked Harry.

"All right," answered Ron, unemotionally.

Silent once more, they brushed themselves off_. _Harry had an abrasion on his hand; Ron had scraped one ankle, but was able to walk with no problem. They divided the books between themselves without a word, and went on their separate but parallel ways to the Great Hall.

From the landing above them, Hermione watched and learned.

* * *

Once breakfast had started, she broached the subject. "I saw you two on the staircase just now."

Silence. Oh, sure, 400 very noisy students were in the hall, but around Harry and Ron, the silence was deafening.

"I was wrong yesterday. About it coming down to a fist fight. I was only making matters worse."

Silence.

"I don't have any brothers or sisters, and...oh, I've had friends and all, but..."

Silence.

"I mean... it's not like Harry had to run out in traffic to save you, Ron, he was just softening your fall on the stairs, but still..."

Silence.

"I understand why Harry did it, and Ron, you _know_ you would have done the same for Harry if he had fallen.... even if he was falling from a broomstick." 

Silence.

"You would do that sort of thing for each other, because after all the silly arguments and pranks, you two are still true friends."

Silence.

"Oh, by the way: a chess game left uncompleted by mutual consent is a _draw_."

Silence.

"Isn't one of you going to say something?" she asked.

Silence. Ron stopped munching and looked up, staring at Harry.

"Harry," said Ron, "if it's the last thing I do....."

All eyes turned his way.

"...I'm gonna get one of those Muggle egg timers. You are the _slowest _chess player I ever saw in my life! I would suggest you quit the game, except we both enjoy playing. _Maybe_, after seven years here, _maybe_ you'll finally pick up some speed. But you are NOT going to keep me up late any more, waiting for you to move, oh great one." 

Silence. Harry looked up at Ron.

"Ron," he said, "if you're going to continue being such a..."

All eyes shifted across the table.

"...showoff on the stairs, at least keep a grip on the rail. Honestly, it's not the best place to practice your swan dive."

Silence. Except for resumed munching.

"Harry, that water glass trick was rotten. Clever -- wish I had thought of it first -- but rotten. If I had lost my Potions homework, Snape would've had my hide."

"Ron, I could hardly write all morning after reaching into that pitcher of ice water. My arm was numb. I didn't have to, y'know; I was tempted to empty that ice on your bed... that was Plan B. Plan A....well, I never would have gotten away with it, but Plan A was to pour it down your pajamas."

Silence. Except for munching and snickering. With each retort, Fred and George were alternately drawing marks on an invisible mid-air scoreboard.

"Y'know, Harry, that Fifi sounds like the perfect girl for you! Why not marry her, and you two can make little house-elves together."

"Marry her, with that voice? She sounds like Ron Weasley on helium."

"Beggars can't be choosers, Harry."

"While I think of it, Ron, see Angelina after breakfast. She wants to return your pink dress."

"What's the matter," asked Ron, "hemline too short? If it's too small, ask your auntie to let it out for you."

"It might fit _you_... but then, I'm _much_ bigger around the chest."

"Doubt it." 

Silence. Except for the total din of 400 hungry students.

Harry continued it. "You should have seen the look on your face when Scabbers ran up the table."

"If he had any loyalty, he should have bit you. Y'know, Hedwig pecked me before I could convince her to carry that howler."

"I'll have to reward her later." 

"Ruddy owl's got no sense of humour," said Ron, stuffing his face.

"And what with Quidditch dresses and snog tests, we do have to keep a sense of humour around here, don't we?"

"Rife. I hab one, reebly," seb Ron. "Keebs me nifb n' lov'bub."

"I think this is where we came in. Oh, and Hermione -- thanks for the reminder."

"Mff tg............. um, me too, Hermione. That little speech was truly..... mushy."

Hermione smiled at him. "Why, thank you, Ron. That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Now, what's this about your _dress_?"

"First things first," said Ron. About those special alarm pictures, could you and my Dad record one for ....._ow!_ Oh, kick all you want, Harry! Hermione, I want a special picture...._ow!_ ... especially for Harry. _Ow!_ Could you record it?"

George looked at Fred. "Rats," he said. "There goes the butterbeer concession." 


End file.
